


Trysts and Business

by l_e_crivainsolitaire



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Drunk Blackwall, Explicit part is in passing only, M/M, Minor Blackwall/Josephine Montilyet, Ry'del Lavellan, Sera is mentioned, like blink and you miss it, pavellan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 13:16:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7803409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_e_crivainsolitaire/pseuds/l_e_crivainsolitaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blackwall and Bull have something to discuss with the Inquisition and walk into something else entirely. Bull drinks to soften the image. Blackwall drinks to—to forget?</p><p>Day to day experiences the Inquisition goes through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trysts and Business

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a writer of smut.

"Fuck." Blackwall muttered, downing his fifth cup of some strong alcohol, even Bull gave pause, wondering if he should stop the man. But he gets it. Earlier this afternoon, he and Blackwall had business with the Inquisitor. To look at some documents, approve of certain missions, things to sign. Josephine offered to do it for them, but they were personal matters they would rather deal with themselves. When they were told that the Inquisitor was in his private quarters, it should have been a clear sign: Maybe do business later. Still, they forced it. Walking up those damn steps and—

"Oh, shit." Bull had whispered. Blackwall's face had turned red and horror stricken when he saw. The Inquisitor's _trysts_ (more than a tryst. Bull groaned. It was full on fucking) with— _whoa, is it that Dorian?_ Scandalous. Dorian's a good looking guy _,_ that was no secret, but Tevinter. _Altus_ mage _Tevinter_. _Does it matter?_ Bull thought. _Dorian is a good looking guy with a thick cock_ (learned _that_ today), _and he is a good guy._

Still. _Thick cock buried deep in elf ass. The Inquisitor's ass_. Bull groaned a second time.

It wasn't meant to be seen and having seen it was an accident. The inner circle moved freely in Skyhold. Free enough to even go into the Inquisitor's private quarters without announcement. It can't be their fault he and Blackwall accidentally saw, but then—

"I love you. Dorian, I love you." _Oh shit._ It was soft—a gasp, it was intimate and private. The Inquisitor had said that morning he was busy. No business today. _Everyone_ knew what that meant—not _who_ it meant, but still. They forced it—because of personal matters. It could have waited.

Without a word, Blackwall had pushed past Bull to get out of the room. They dropped off the documents to Josephine—told her she should deal with it tomorrow, "Lady Montilyet, don't go in there." Blackwall had to make sure she understood without actually explaining—then headed straight for the near empty Herald's Rest and ordered the strongest drink they have.

Blackwall was at seven drinks now, and he was feeling it. Bull needed a bit more, but he wasn't concerned with forgetting. He needed it to accept that he lingered in the Inquisitor's room a few seconds more than appropriate. It was hot—though it was creepy how quiet they were. He could use it for later, but it was a respect thing. You don't use your boss as wank material.

Then Bull couldn't help himself, because Blackwall was decidedly a gentleman and these things bothered him—not that he was a prude, Bull guessed—but the man was still blushing around Josephine. "So Blackwall…" He started.

Blackwall groaned, putting a hand to his face. "No."

"You don't even know what I was going to say!" Bull protested, taking a swig of his drink. Blackwall's sigh was loud, whiny even, but he gave in. It was their game.

Bull beamed, "okay, so, would you rather have Dorian or the Inquisitor come in for a drink right now?"

"Don't fucking tease me Bull," Blackwall's speech was slurred now.

"Naw, you have to choose! That's the game Blackwall!" If Bull thought that the man was red before, he was much redder now. It was interesting. "Dorian or the Inquisitor?" _The fucker or the fucked?_ Bull realized the harshness of the question a little too late.

"The Inquisitor," Blackwall downed a glass. "We shouldn't have been there," he muttered.

"Yes? Been where?" The unmistakable voice chimed behind them. Just their luck.

"Andraste's tits," Blackwall groaned, drinking one shot after the other. It didn't help that the Inquisitor was freshly bathed, hair still wet, a certain glow, and the two knew exactly why. It has elevated the game for Bull—at the expense of Blackwall

"Inquisitor, we were looking for you." Bull said, glancing at Blackwall. The poor man, drunk but conscious enough to listen, yet too drunk to actually move away. "For a game of Wicked Grace."

The Inquisitor gave them a small smile, "sorry. I was training with Dorian." He sat next to Blackwall. Bull couldn't help but think the Inquisitor were fanning those flames without knowing. "We're trying to perfect our teamwork on the field, we've been slightly off sync."

 _That_ was an image. "Maker," Blackwall shook his head.

"You seem perfectly in sync with the Vint," Bull nudged Blackwall. "Must be a—"

"Alright!" Blackwall suddenly stood up, or tried, the bar stool falling with a loud clatter. The Inquisitor had to steady him, but he put out a hand. "I'm s'drunk. But it's good. I needed it." Blackwall could barely string his sentences. Bull took a step back, watching.

"Inquisitor," Blackwall put a hand on the elf's shoulder. "I'm…" he glanced at Bull. " _We're_ sorry."

The Inquisitor searched his face and shrugged at Bull, "what is it Blackwall? Are you...alright?"

"I..we," he waved a hand at Bull, "saw. With Dorian." Bull watched the Inquisitor now. Was he going to get angry? Deny it? Ignore it?

Instead, he gave them a wry laugh. "Oh." The elf glanced back and forth at the two, very unsure. Bull understood immediately, the relationship was new. Cautious. Poor Lavellan, looking so very insecure with Dorian. Poor Blackwall, such a gentleman, not knowing how to use his words at times like these.

"Wanted t'let you know, I feel gui—guilty." Blackwall dry heaved and the Inquisitor's wry look changed to concern. Bull's small smile turned into a tight line. Now _he_ felt bad for teasing. "Should have knocked—or something." Blackwall continued. "But—! It s'alright. Wanted you t'know. I 'espect you. It's—we shouldn't 'ave seen. It'was private! I'm sorry." Then he fell back, towards Bull, muttering more apologies as he gave in to his drunkenness. Bull gave the elf a questioning look.

"Can you bring him back to his room, Bull?" The Inquisitor looked everywhere but at them.

Bull nodded, slinging the drunk man over his shoulder. He had his fun for the night, but Blackwall's guilt apparently bled into his own. With a sharp exhale, he turned around. "I hate to piggyback on his apology boss...but I'm sorry." Blackwall was snoring now. "If it's anything at all—we're happy for you. He's a good guy. A good Tevinter and if anyone finds a problem with him, send him our way." With that, Bull walked away, ready to forget.

—

When Blackwall and Bull had documents or business to conduct, it had become customary to stop at the bottom of the stairs leading to the Inquisitor's room. Then shout very loudly, "I'm coming up!"

That is, of course, until Sera walked in on the pair and instead yelled, "Who's coming?!"

Now, business is strictly done in the war room.

**Author's Note:**

> Told you I'm not a writer of smut.


End file.
